Endure
by KisameHoshigaki257
Summary: The power to burn buildings, slay demons, fight gods. Dresden knows he's one of the most powerful wizards of the White Council. But that power is bound by laws, magical and mortal. So what do you do when that power fails in the face of humanity?


Endure

Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files, that's Jim Butcher.

"Harry...this isn't your fault," Murphy said softly, her hand on my shoulder. Red and blue lights light up the night, flashing against the windows of the small two story apartment. It was the only light, except for the flashlights of the police officers with us as they rigged up the portable spotlights used during nighttime crime scenes.

It cast a ghoulish light over the broken body of the woman at my feet. Her name was Sarah Michaels, and we'd met a few days ago at a diner. She'd been my waitress, trying to hide bruises on her arms and a swollen lip. We'd ended up talking and because people sometimes would share their problems with me since I can't keep myself out of trouble she'd told me her story.

I'd battled monsters, beast beyond imagining, I had power like few other wizards. It wasn't enough though. So many I couldn't save even when I could use my power.

"Maybe not," I said softly, looking down at the pulverized face, the blood that spilled from broken teeth. The hands that even in death clutched her belly. "My heart doesn't feel that way.

You're supposed to protect the people you love, not hurt them. Then again, maybe someone who hurt their loved ones that way isn't capable of love. At least, not of anyone other than themselves.

"Harry," Murphy said softly, her hand on my arm.

"I mean, what's the point of power if you can't use it to help people?" I asked softly. "The Laws are supposed to protect people, keep them safe, but sometimes it just feels like they're there to stop good people from doing anything while the bad people get away with hurting people."

Murphy didn't say anything as the light came on. He'd destroyed all the lighting in the livingroom when he was beating Sarah to death. The human body is surprising resiliant when you think about it. I knew that first hand from all the beatings I took trying to protect people. Sarah had found it out the hard way, judging by the amount of broken furniture lying about in the living room.

And the dining room.

And the kitchen.

I hadn't had the heart to look at the rest of the house. I'd been the one to find her, apartment door open from where he'd fled, coming by to drop off a protection talisman I'd made for her. The tiny metal disk hung by its cord from my limp fingers, still dripping with her blood from where I'd tried to find a pulse.

"The law has limits, Harry, you know that," Murphy said. "Just as the law limits us for a very good reason."

I turned to stare at her, ready for pained comeback, but the look in her eye shut me up. Murph was a cop, and before being shunted to SI she'd no doubt answered dozens of abuse calls. Maybe even a few that went this bad. So instead I just turned back to Sarah's body.

"It doesn't feel that way right now," I said softly and felt her squeeze my arm.

"No, it doesn't," she replied softly.

"I was trying to help her," I said softly, "But there was so little I can do. I couldn't burn him to a crisp or...beat him up or anything."

Murphy nodded in my peripheral vision. "There was a young man I knew back when I was a beat cop. His girlfriend was the abuser, but he was the one that kept getting arrested and charged, not her. He'd be beaten to hell and back, but because she had a bruise or two from where he blocked, the other cops always brought him in for the abuse, and she kept claiming he looked that way because she was defending herself. I ended up talking to him one night when I ended up giving him first aid, since I was the only officer who bothered. Saw him again and again, tried to get him to leave, but it was the same story, he loved her, she loved him, she just had a problem controlling her temper and he was a guy so he should be able to handle it, ya know?" Her face held the pain of past memories. "One night we got the call and went out to their place. He was lying dead, head bashed in by a frying pan and she'd cut off his dick. Coroner said that happened while he was bleeding out. She cried the same old story and the others...they believed her. Said he deserved it, the abuser scum. He had the rap sheet for it. I knew the truth though, I just couldn't prove it."

"Oh," I said softly. What else was there to say? We both felt powerless.

"I wanted to make her pay, so much," Murphy said, "Because he really was a sweat guy. He didn't deserve to die like that. Just like this woman here didn't deserve to."

"What do I do, Karen?" I asked softly.

"Endure," she said raggedly, "You endure, and you remember, and you swear that you'll never do it, that when you can't you'll stop those who do, and help those that receive it. You use the dead to remind yourself why you help the living despite how much it hurts."

We looked down at the body, the glare of work lights making it look even harsher than the surreal police lights had. I'd endured a lot already, watching people die from things I should have been able to stop. I didn't want to have to endure anymore.

But I would.


End file.
